She had heard something. A hammering on the wooden doors downstairs. Silence. And then her mother’s voice calling to her, croaking and anxious. She wrapped herself in her dressing gown, and as she ran down the stairs called back to her mother to be patient. Where were Josephine and Rommel? Why was she being pulled out of sleep by this? The hammering was far louder than necessary – no wonder her mother sounded frightened.

She opened the door and saw Officers Long and Klein, both very tall and broad-shouldered, filling the light of the doorway and with their hats pressed to their chests. Sorry Ma’am, it’s the wind, said the larger man, gesturing with his hat - a brief gust lifted a lock of his humid hair. 

What can I do for you? asked Laurel. I hope everything is all right?

Yes ma’am, everything is fine. Although we have some difficult news.

He gently turned his brown eyes to Laurel’s, while Officer Klein handed her a leaflet. Victim Responses.

I'm afraid we'll be needing your mother’s assistance. Can we speak to her please?

No, said Laurel, pulling the door closer to her. She's unwell. I will be happy to help you.

Of course Ma’am, they agreed, so Laurel slipped the leaflet onto the console table and walked out between them, finding her legs becoming leaden and her breath becoming faint. The officers took her arms to support her and the three walked together into the whispering stillness. Sunlight played on the draping willows and on the garden pond, empty through to its floor since the heron'd made off with the koi. They crossed the soft grass to the gravel driveway, where a dark, shining car was waiting - 

Would you like us to drive, Ma’am? 


She was surprised - were they not going to walk through the orchard to find the child?

It happened at the cutting, said Long. By your fenceline with the Amblins. 

But on our property?

Yes, on your side. Clearly on your side. She was just a little girl. You’ll need to sign confirming death.

She'd rather walk. She closed her eyes and let her steps follow along with the steps of the officers, as though she were wheeling the pedals of a bicycle as it moved quickly downhill. The sound of their trudging in the gravel was thick, a crowded aviary, and as they passed the gates she entered into it, as she entered into the heat of their dark twill suits. Nothing seemed to pass them on the gravel road. The dust barely stirred.